


A Broken Crown

by SightKeeper (GarrulousGibberish)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Assumed Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Temporary Amnesia, no miracles are frivolous when you don't remember they're extraordinary, now with bonus art!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-13 08:36:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21491449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarrulousGibberish/pseuds/SightKeeper
Summary: Anathema sighed and wrinkled her nose. Just because she hadn’t yet gone to sleep didn’t mean that it felt any less too early for elaborate explanations. Newt probably wouldn’t understand it, anyways, even though he would try very hard to.She simply said, “I think I might have broken them. A bit.”“I beg your pardon?”Or: the story in which Crowley and Aziraphale try to figure out who they are to each other, and Adam thinks this game is great fun.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 260
Collections: Good Omens Kink Meme





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to post my WIPs so I might get my butt in gear and finish them!  
[Original prompt from here!](https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/616.html?thread=219240#cmt219240)

Anathema rocked back and forth from her perch at the bottom of the stairs, a cup of steaming tea in her hands. Tea that had, until a moment ago, been stone cold from having been forgotten for a long while. Such things happen when one is preoccupied with other matters—just as one nearly trips over their partner when they’ve first awoken and are otherwise preoccupied with thoughts of coffee.  
  
Newt scrambled to pick himself off the floor and into a slightly more dignified position. It wasn’t much more dignified.  
  
“Wha—'athema? What are you doing sitting on the stairs?”   
  
Anathema sighed and wrinkled her nose. Just because she hadn’t yet gone to sleep didn’t mean that it felt any less too early for elaborate explanations. Newt probably wouldn’t understand it, anyways, even though he would try very hard to.   
  
She simply said, “I think I might have broken them. A bit.”  
  
“I beg your pardon?”  
  
She didn’t answer, instead taking a long drink of her perfect-temperature tea. And just at that moment, hurried footsteps could be heard approaching from the kitchen. A bright shock of blond hair poked out from the doorway.   
  
“I heard all the commotion from the next room. Is everyone all right?”  
  
Limbs akimbo and all common sense still tucked into bed upstairs, Newt eloquently replied, “Ngh?”   
  
“Oh, good heavens, I hope you haven’t hurt yourself!” fretted the unexpected celestial houseguest. “Here, please allow me to assist—”   
  
Before Aziraphale could reach out to touch him, however, Newt was already mostly upright and backing very much _ away_. “What are you doing?”  
  
“Well, right this moment I’m trying to help you up off the floor.”  
  
“No, that’s not—I mean, thank you—but I meant, what are _ you _ doing _ here? _ ”  
  
“Oh, I...” Aziraphale smiled nervously and folded his hands. “Er, I suppose I was hoping you might have an answer to that, because I’m afraid I had rather been wondering that, myself.”   
  
Newt looked with utter bafflement at Anathema, who just continued to frown unhappily into her drink.  
  
“You being here—it doesn’t mean another end of the world, does it?” The last part was asked with a distinct squeak to it that Newt then failed to cover with a cough.   
  
Aziraphale tittered along with an amused flutter of his fingers. “I’d like to think of it being in quite the opposite light, as it were. A good omen.”  
  
“Sure, you can think that,” Anathema muttered. “Doesn’t make it accurate.”  
  
The angel pouted. “Well then, at the very least a _ neutral _ one.”  
  
“That’s probably closer,” she allowed. “Though they’re usually one or the other. Omens, that is. Otherwise they just _ are_.”  
  
Newt paled as realization dawned. “One or the—the other." He jerked his head to look all around. "Where’s the other one?” He first looked at Anathema, but when he finally seemed to accept she wasn’t giving him information, he turned his question to Aziraphale; only he seemed just as confused, if not more so.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” Aziraphale confessed by means of answer. “Who?”

* * *

The ‘other one’ was currently sitting on a short garden wall, watching as the Them whispered conspiratorially between each other, casting him not-at-all suspicious looks every couple of seconds. The matter in which they were discussing was of dire importance, it would seem, and Crowley took great joy in flashing them a bright grin whenever they appeared to come to some sort of conclusion, which would set them immediately back into more fervent plotting. Foiled again!  
  
It was a fun game, really, even if he wasn’t sure how he was winning. Only that he _ was_. By some measure.  
  
“What do you think we should do with him, then?” Pepper demanded.  
  
“Is there anything we _ can _ do with him?” asked Brian. “He’s still a grown-up.”  
  
“I resent that,” said Crowley, and was ignored.  
  
Pepper continued, “We must do something!”  
  
“Must we? Can’t we just leave him here and go play in the woods?”  
  
“Oh, now where’d be the fun in that?” Crowley jeered. “Who knows what sort of trouble I might get up to if left to my own devices, hm?”  
  
Adam shook his head. “She’s right. We have to do something. It could be dangerous to leave him on his own.”   
  
“Since when do adults need children to look after them?” Wensleydale asked. Pepper scoffed.  
  
“Since the beginning,” Adam said, with childish authority. “And besides, he’s helped me before. Doesn’t seem very fair to leave him out.”  
  
Crowley squinted with his entire face, so as to be seen despite his glasses. “Have we met?”  
  
“Adults don’t play games,” Brian insisted. “They just do the same boring things day in and out.”   
  
“Not me—big fan of games, me,” Crowley defied.  
  
Adam grinned. “See? He wants to play, too. I’m sure I can think of something for all of us to do.”  
  
“That’s what I like to hear!” Crowley hooted. He levered himself so that he stood on the wall, rubbing his hands eagerly. “Where should we start?”  
  
“Um. Perhaps by coming down from the wall?” called a hesitant, drowsy voice. The Them and Crowley all turned to see Newt, who had managed to pull on his witchfinder’s coat but not his trousers, standing in his shorts and mismatched socks at the entrance to Jasmine Cottage.  
  
“Good morning, Mr. Pulsifer,” the Them said in greeting.  
  
“Good morning, children,” Newt said. “Can I—um. Can I steal, uh, this...one? For a minute?”  
  
“You can keep him,” Pepper told him.  
  
“I’d rather not,” Newt assured, twitchily. Crowley stalked a bit closer to him, towering from his place on the wall, just for the gratification of watching Newt squirm.   
  
“When you come back,” said Adam, “I’ll have thought of a game for all of us to play.”   
  
Crowley nodded back his way, and added solemnly, finger pointed and everything, "Don't disappoint me, boy."   
  
Adam laughed. "I won't."  
  
"There's a good lad. Now, you." He swung around so that he pointed at Newt, who very much wished he wouldn't, which Crowley knew even if he knew nothing else. "What do you want?"

* * *

Aziraphale breathed in deeply with a fond expression, tilting back slightly so that the stair he shared with Anathema creaked under their combined weight. “What is that delightful aroma?”  
  
“My tea,” Anathema guessed.   
  
“Might I inquire as to what kind it is?”  
  
She pulled the still steaming cup back far enough so that she might gauge its color. “It _ was _ ginseng. Now I think it’s...it might be lavender?” She took another sip. “Most likely it’s lavender. With honey."  
  
“Shouldn’t you know, if it’s your tea?” Aziraphale asked kindly.   
  
Anathema fixed him with a flat expression. “Why are you in my house?” she shot back.  
  
Aziraphale’s smile dropped and he contritely looked away. His primly folded hands clasped a little more tightly in his lap. “Right. Touché.”  
  
Fortunately, they were saved from more of Aziraphale’s attempts at small talk by the front door swinging open and a ruffled Newt shuffling into the room, shadowed by a smirking Crowley who slinked in at a much more reasonable pace.  
  
“Okay. So.” Newt puffed out his cheeks and gestured awkwardly in Crowley’s general direction. “Here you are. What now?”  
  
When no one said anything, the remaining silence became absolutely intolerable. Anathema glared at her tea. Crowley slouched against the wall in a very affected sort of nonchalance. Aziraphale politely smiled. Newt looked between them all in something akin to horror and waited for the world to right itself. It worked well enough for them the last time.  
  
“How about some introductions?” Aziraphale offered, cracking under the pressure.  
  
“Introductions?” Newt repeated.  
  
“Wonderful idea! I’ll start. My name is Aziraphale.” He looked expectantly to Crowley, who was the only one who seemed might be willing to participate in the conversation as the other two had opted for a silent battle of wills. There was a tinge of desperation in the following, “And you are?”  
  
“Crowley,” said Crowley.  
  
“How lovely it is to make your acquaintance.” Aziraphale beamed so brightly it nearly hurt to look at.  
  
Crowley dropped all pretense and blundered quickly to say, “Ri-right. You too.” He said it just a bit too earnestly, and conspicuously cleared his throat afterwards.   
  
Newt just turned his gaping mouth back toward Anathema, who didn’t need to see his face to know exactly how he was looking at her.  
  
“What did you _ do?!”_  
  
“Yes, I know! We know!” Anathema shouted, finally fed up. “Adam’s told us. You’ve told us. We’ve all met before. You two—!” She stood and jabbed her finger at Crowley and Aziraphale in turn, “—definitely know each other! You’re always together!”   
  
Crowley, unhappy with being on the other end of a pointed finger, was about to say something very snide in return, but was distracted by Aziraphale’s alarmed maneuver to pull the teacup from Anathema’s hand before it could slosh all over the carpet. Tea thusly saved, Aziraphale returned to his spot on the stair to allow for Anathema’s continued outburst. Crowley decided to just acquire the spot she had vacated instead of getting into a fight he needn’t really get involved in, anyways.   
  
“‘I might have broken them a bit,’” Newt screech-quoted. “How do you just ‘break them’? I know a thing or two about breaking things, but how have you managed this?”  
  
“It wasn’t like I was trying to! They’re ancient supernatural beings—”  
  
“I still resent that,” Crowley said, and was still ignored.  
  
“—I was trying to tap into their power. Their knowledge could have been invaluable. I didn’t intend to drill into their heads and have their memories leak out.”  
  
“What knowledge could they possibly have that Wikipedia doesn’t?” Newt countered with arms raised in disbelief.  
  
“I think he’s made a rather good point,” said Aziraphale, who watched their squabble with ear tilted like an attentive puppy.  
  
Crowley frowned. “Do you know what Wikipedia is?”  
  
“No idea,” said Aziraphale cheerily. “Have you?"  
  
“Haven’t the slightest.”  
  
Aziraphale gave him an agreeable hum and lifted the steaming cup to his lips. The handle was a little engraved wing. A novelty mug. If memory served, it hadn’t been that a moment ago.  
  
“What’s that you’ve got there?” Crowley asked, more interested now in the drink than the row.  
  
Pleasantly, Aziraphale answered, “Hot cocoa. Would you like some?”  
  
“Chocolate. Bit too sweet for my tastes. Could do with something stronger.”  
  
“Mmm. Like a fine shiraz. Or perhaps a pinot noir. Now that does sound like a treat.”  
  
It did sound nice, didn’t it? Might be something to look forward to at the end of all this. Whatever that might entail. And as far as Crowley knew, he didn’t have any plans to be doing otherwise.  
  
“Do you think we should…?” He jerked his head in the direction of the other two.   
  
“I believe they will work it out without our influence, don’t you? They seem like reasonable people.”  
  
“Oh, yeah, definitely,” Crowley agreed. Anathema had just implied something very creative Newt could do with a computer. “Just give it time. They’ll figure it out on their own.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed thus far - I'd love to hear what you think!
> 
> Up next: the game!


	2. Chapter 2

“Hullo, Aziraphale,” greeted Adam. He was standing atop a tall tree stump with a nest of twigs and red-yellow leaves in his hand. “I was wondering if you might be joining us, too.”  
  
“Another grown-up,” Brian lamented.  
  
Pepper rolled her eyes. “Come on, you two. If you’re going to play, then you’ve got to do it right.”  
  
Crowley and Aziraphale walked side by side toward the Them, including Dog, who were gathered around Adam on the stump. The two stood out in stark relief from the bright forest colors and the children’s patterned clothes, but were welcomed all the same.  
  
“This place is exquisite,” said Aziraphale dreamily, breathing deeply in the crisp autumn air. “It feels safe. And warm.”  
  
Crowley looked at him incredulously. “What are you on about?”  
  
“Can’t you feel it?”  
  
“Absolutely not.”  
  
“More’s the pity. It really is quite something.”  
  
“I’ll just have to take your word for it. But enough of that—oi, boy! So what have you got planned for us?”   
  
Adam beckoned them closer with a regal wave of his hand. “It’s a bit like capture the flag. Crowley, you’re to be the king of the wood. You get to wear the hat," he told them. Crowley, all pomp and circumstance, knelt to allow Adam to properly anoint him, to the satisfied nods of the Them. Cheekily, he gave a little bow to Aziraphale, who huffed in exasperation. “And Aziraphale, you’re the monster who wants to take the throne.”  
  
“My my, isn’t that an honor?” Aziraphale said dryly.   
  
“Come now, angel. Play along.” He sauntered back over to his side, adjusting the ridiculous bramble crown upon his head with aplomb. The twigs were already hopelessly knotted in his red hair.  
  
Aziraphale chuckled. “‘Angel’, was it? I thought I was to be the monster?”  
  
Crowley, brought up short, struggled to save face. “No it’s—just the. Y’know.” He grandly gestured to Aziraphale’s everything, and nodded decisively. It was enough of an explanation. Obviously.  
  
Aziraphale looked down, taking in this non-answer as if it were a thoughtful observation worthy of consideration. “Is it the suit? It’s perhaps a bit light for the season, but I find it very comfortable. Familiar. Even if I’m not entirely sure why.” Aziraphale looked back up. “A bit how it feels with you, now that I think of it.”  
  
“Sweet talking the enemy, eh?” Crowley smiled winningly. “Don’t think I’m not on to you. It’s going to take more than some flattery to best me.”  
  
Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Oh, honestly. As if I would need to stoop so low.”  
  
“Oh-hoh! Is that a challenge?”   
  
“Perhaps. Can’t let you have all the fun, can I?” he returned with a little grin of his own. To Adam he asked, “And what shall be your roles in this?”  
  
“We’re going to divide into teams: light versus dark. Brian and I have the darkest clothes, so we’re on Crowley’s team. Pepper and Wensleydale, you have the lightest, so you’re on Aziraphale’s.”  
  
“Makes sense to me,” said Crowley. “Let’s get this show on the road.”  
  
Adam smiled widely, and the Them all crouched low like athletes at the start of the race, faces incredibly serious. Aziraphale calmly brushed away a crease in his trouser leg and paid the cocksure leer Crowley gave him no mind.  
  
“On your marks,” Adam began.  
  
“Good luck, angel. You’ll need it.”  
  
“Get set…”  
  
“We’ll see just how smug you are once I’ve gotten the crown.”  
  
A laugh. "Looking forward to it."  
  
“Go!”  
  
With a loud, anticipatory whoop, everyone sprung into action and the game commenced in full.

* * *

“There, there!” Pepper cried and ran, pointing at Crowley through a throng of trees. She leapt through the browning leaves that crunched loudly under her red boots. Crowley turned to smile at her, hands in his pockets, and then vanished from sight in a puff of black smoke, his laughter still crackling like thunder in his wake. Outraged, she shouted after him, “That’s cheating!”  
  
Aziraphale hadn’t been running by her side, but now stood there, all the same. “You’re right, my dear. He is cheating. I think we should level the playing field, don’t you?”  
  
Pepper startled at his sudden appearance, but then raised her chin bravely. “What did you have in mind?”  
  
By means of answer, Aziraphale raised his hand and clicked his fingers. The resulting _ snap! _ echoed strangely through the trees, but there was otherwise no change to behold. Pepper’s brow scrunched as she tried to puzzle out why Aziraphale’s smile seemed so self-satisfied.  
  
Then, suddenly, there was a half-started scream, and Pepper turned her head just in time to watch Wensleydale trip over the root of a tree, fall, and then _ vanish _ —only to reappear on the branch of the same tree some twenty feet overhead. Wensleydale tilted precariously on the branch, arms pinwheeling, and then found his center. He looked more than a little green as he stared at Pepper far below.  
  
“Actually, I think I would prefer to have just fallen from the height I was at before,” he said, and inched towards the trunk of the tree so that he could wrap his arms around it. Pitifully, he whined, “I’d like to be on the ground now.”  
  
He did a sort of awkward shimmy around the tree, and Pepper and Aziraphale watched with very disparate levels of trepidation as he did so. He circled around the back of it, out of sight. He didn’t come back from it.  
  
“Wensleydale?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
Pepper jumped and looked behind herself, where Wensleydale was now stepping out from behind a tree there. Safe and sound and on the ground. They blinked at each other, and Wensleydale took several steps back the way he came. He reappeared several yards away from behind a brightly colored hedge.  
  
“Pepper! Pepper, I don’t believe this—look! Look what I can do!”  
  
“How have you done this?” she demanded, watching Wensleydale with wide, wondering eyes.   
  
“I don’t know! I’m just wanting to be somewhere, and then I am!”  
  
“That’s all there is to it,” Aziraphale assured. “Just mind your feet, the rest will follow.” He turned to Pepper and nodded reassuringly. “Go on. Off you pop.”  
  
Pepper didn’t need anymore conjoling, and soon enough she was joining Wensleydale in darting between the spaces in the leaves, from branch to hedge and anywhere in between. Aziraphale smiled at the echo of their peals of laughter, and even more widely at the affronted _ squawk! _ of Crowley unexpectedly being subjected to their seeking hands.  
  
“That’s a dirty trick!” he howled, dashing away from Pepper’s opportunistic lunge, which then forced him to bound back from Wensleydale who was more falling in Crowley’s general direction rather than following a planned attack. Crowley snickered at the boy’s expense, but Aziraphale could tell that Wensleydale’s timely _ pop! _ down to safety was more orchestrated than by his own design. Even if the children posed little threat to Crowley, it wouldn’t do to spoil their game. This was only meant to be a bit of mischief, not a trial.  
  
“Taking a page from your own book,” Aziraphale called back. “You’ve invited this upon yourself, you wicked thing.”  
  
Crowley laughed, high and manic and absolutely delighted. “You’re a right bastard, aren’t you? Come on then, do your own dirty work!”  
  
“Oh, I fully intend to,” said Aziraphale. With a flippant wave of his hand, he joined Crowley up among the trees, and thus the chase began proper. Crowley popped in and out of space and Aziraphale followed him doggedly—flying for the speed in which they played. And it was _ fun_. Up until the point where Crowley misstepped.   
  
One moment Crowley was smoothly gliding along, the next his heel slipped wrong on a branch too slick with condensation. He skidded abruptly to a stop, which only allowed Aziraphale enough time to at last catch up with him, proudly exclaim, “Aha! Now I’ve got—” before Crowley’s momentum sent them careening decidedly downward.  
  
They fell to the earth in a graceless heap of leaves and feathers; red and gold and white and black. It didn't hurt.   
  
Somewhere along the descent, Crowley’s shades were lost. Blinking the stars from his eyes, he pulled his face back from where it’d been tucked to Aziraphale’s chest. Aziraphale loosened the cradle of his arms to allow him room, but did not release him entirely nor make to move from atop him. Crowley didn’t much mind that, actually.  
  
There was something akin to wonder written across Aziraphale’s face when he looked at Crowley.  
  
“My dear, what gorgeous eyes you have." He gazed down at his complacent captive where he was pinned to the forest floor, before suddenly seeming to remember himself. Flustered, but reluctant to pull away, he asked, "Oh! Do pardon me, are you all right?” He even gave Crowley a few well-meaning but otherwise ineffectual pats.  
  
Crowley let his head thump back to the ground. Wistfully, and suitably charmed, he said, “That went down like a lead balloon.”

* * *

Anathema removed her glasses so she could rub at the bridge of her nose. “Does it say anything about memories in that one?”   
  
“It does, I think,” Newt answered, “but more in the sense of warning the reader not to forget steps, not, y’know, getting memories back. Not really anything that would help.”  
  
“I’m not finding anything, either.” Anathema sighed into her hands. When Newt encouragingly patted her back, she offered up a brief smile. “I don’t know what I can do to help them recover from this. The original spell wasn’t even supposed to involve them, specifically. I thought it would be more, I don’t know, metaphorical.”  
  
“What was the original spell?”  
  
Anathema stood and retrieved the book with purple-red binding from underneath a tower of notes. “Here,” she said, setting it on the table and angled so Newt could see. “The only thing I can gather from this is that this bit,” she pointed to the text, “wasn’t just talking about a vessel for ageless wisdom, and was instead referring to an ageless vessel from which wisdom could be derived. It—it makes sense, in a way. But I can’t say that I’d ever choose to go to either of them for advice. They might be immortal, but they’re also just very weird.”   
  
Newt nodded sagely.   
  
“And this bit about the broken crown? That’s their heads, isn’t it?” He grimaced. “At least that wasn’t literal. You didn’t actually crack their skulls open.”  
  
“At least there’s that,” Anathema agreed. She took the book back and set it on her growing stack of spellbooks littered across the table. It was looking about as chaotic as it had during the apocalypse, and she didn’t much care for the nostalgia.  
  
Petulantly, she said, “But that still doesn’t help for how I’m supposed to put them back to normal.”  
  
“Suppose there’s no drought for recollection or something, is there?”  
  
“There is, but this was a targeted attack, even if it wasn’t meant to be. Which means I need to find a way to counter it just the same. Not just any old thing would work.”  
  
“Right.” He didn’t fully understand the whole of it, but he understood enough to trust that Anathema knew what she was doing, which was just as good. “Back to it, then?”  
  
Another deep sigh. “Yup.”  
  
Anathema reached out for her teacup with intent to refill it before she settled back in, but found it strangely full and warm. Aziraphale had blessed her tea, of all things. She hadn’t expected it to carry over from the morning, let alone well after his departure. He was trying to help her as she worked, she guessed. Thoughtful of him, considering it was her fault that he was in this predicament.   
  
She supposed that he must be doing fine, wherever he and Crowley had wandered off to, if he was finding the time to refresh her tea. It was a bit of a weight off her mind. She wouldn’t be ungrateful for the assistance, even if lemon was far from her favorite flavor.

* * *

“What do you suppose the witch meant by that?” Crowley scratched at the side of his neck. “The ‘you’re always together’ bit?”  
  
“I don’t know. I didn’t think we knew each other. But we must do, mustn’t we?”   
  
“Must do,” Crowley agreed, leisurely leaning back against the trunk of a tree. The crown lay in his lap, not a single leaf crushed. A lucky break, that.  
  
“We could be friends,” Aziraphale mused.  
  
“Oh yeah, might be that.” He kept his voice lofty as he proposed, “Might even be something else.”  
  
Aziraphale turned to look at him more fully. “Something else?”  
  
“Might not be,” Crowley hastily covered. “But, y’know. Might be.”  
  
Aziraphale echoed, “Might be.” He paused to think. “That feels right, doesn’t it? Friends didn’t entirely fit.”  
  
“Like there’s more to it.”  
  
“Just so."  
  
“Suppose the boy knows. She said that he did.”  
  
“Oh, what a marvelous idea!” Aziraphale said with a clap. “Shall we go ask him?”  
  
Crowley hadn’t actually meant anything of the sort. It was more of an observation rather than a suggestion, because he figured he knew the answer well enough. But it wouldn’t hurt to humor him with the exercise.   
  
"Sure, angel. After you."

* * *

“Adam, I was wondering about something the woman from this morning said.” Aziraphale rubbed at the ring on his finger. “She said that you had told her about us. I was, well, hoping—might you tell us the same?”  
  
The game had been somewhat put on hold while the children regrouped. Adam idly scratched behind Dog’s ears while he thought. “What, tell you about yourselves?”  
  
“Yes! You see, it’s terribly odd, but neither of us can recall much outside of our own names. It’s quite strange to have so many people seem to know you when you don’t know yourself. We had hoped you might fill in the gaps."  
  
Aziraphale might as well have told Adam that Christmas had come early. Crowley recognized that wicked glint in the boy’s eyes, even if Aziraphale didn’t.   
  
“You see, you two are actually secret agents sent to England to spy on the goings on here. You see, Mr. Tyler is actually an evil warlord, and you’re supposed to be finding a way to fight against his master plan that he calls ‘The Neighborhood Watch.’ Anathema’s a grown up, but she’s a witch so he doesn’t trust her. We needed someone on the inside, and that’s why you two were called in. It's all very dramatic.”  
  
Aziraphale leaned into Adam’s every word, and Crowley had to fight to keep his giggles from bubbling up his throat. It would be embarrassing if it weren’t so endearing.  
  
“How are you so certain?”  
  
“It’s written. And books wouldn’t lie. Especially if that book were written by me.”  
  
Aziraphale deflated. “Ah. I don’t think that’s how that works, really.”  
  
“Well, how would you know?” Adam said indulgently. “But if you don’t like my story, that’s alright. Besides, it’s better to make up your own as you go, isn’t it. Makes the game more fun.”  
  
“He’s got you there,” Crowley chimed in.  
  
“Hm. I’d still like to know what you know about us.”  
  
Adam stood up, brushing the dirt from his knees. “What I know is that it’s time to switch sides now.” He held out his hands, to which Crowley obligingly placed the wreath. “Aziraphale, it’s your turn to get the crown.”   
  
Aziraphale took the proffered item, but instead of placing upon himself, he held it just a little ways above his silvery hair, then let go. The crown did not fall but remained in place; a halo of golden leaves. He quirked an eyebrow in Crowley’s direction, smug. Crowley ducked his head to hide the warmth in his face.  
  
"Show off."  
  
“It was your idea to call me ‘angel,’ after all.”  
  
“Didn’t say anything about it not being a good look, now, did I?”  
  
Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “Now who’s the one flattering?”  
  
Crowley didn’t even have the grace to look ashamed. “What can I say? You just bring it out of me.”  
  
“Thank you, darling,” Aziraphale patted his cheek fondly. Perhaps a bit patronizingly. “But it won’t help you win. Let’s begin.”

* * *

The game ended, as it was always meant to, once the sun had started to set.  
  
Crowley was ambling along with Aziraphale through the apple orchard. Their elbows brushed as they walked, and they spoke in intimate, hushed voices, so as not to break the spell that had settled over them.   
  
“You know, this day has been most strange. But I can’t find myself as being anything but grateful.”  
  
“Oh? And why’s that?”  
  
“Well, it’s a bit scary, having no memory of whence I came nor where I’m to be. But today has been nothing of the sort. The short of it is, I’ve had a wonderful time. And I have you to thank for that.”  
  
“Don’t thank me. Thank the boy. Or the witch. They’re the ones with the plans. I’m just here for the game.”  
  
At this, Aziraphale grasped Crowley’s hand in order to keep him still. Earnestly, he took the hand and held it to his own chest. “And I’ve enjoyed playing it with you, my dear.” And then he began to chuckle.  
  
“What’s so funny?”  
  
“Nothing at all! I’m just so full of love right now, I can hardly contain it.” Around another laugh, he asked, “My dear, may I be so bold as to kiss you?”  
  
“_Wha—I— _ hngk, I mean, yes? If you want to?” Crowley’s startled and discombobulated sentence only served to make Aziraphale laugh harder, which absolutely could not stand. So Crowley took matters into his own hands and closed the distance between them. The muffled laughter tasted just as sweet as it sounded, the mirth shared.  
  
Crowley was first to ease out of the kiss, resting his forehead against Aziraphale’s. Was he still smiling? The ache at the corners of his mouth told him yes. It was fine, it wasn’t like anyone’s eyes were open to see how besotted he looked, anyways.  
  
“Hey, angel.”  
  
Dreamy and dazed, Aziraphale replied, “Hm?”  
  
“I think I won the game.” And it might not have been the one he originally thought they were playing, but he’d felt he’d won it all the same. By some measure.  
  
Aziraphale took the wreath he wore and placed it back atop Crowley’s head. “Well done, you.”   
  
Approaching from behind several rows of apple trees came many crunching footsteps. Crowley and Aziraphale took a modest step back, though both were loath to part entirely, and thus kept their fingers entwined.  
  
“There you two are!” said Pepper. She was tailed by Brian and Wensleydale who seemed quite exhausted but happy enough for it. “Have we done it, then? Did you win?”  
  
“Oh, we have time to keep playing, don’t we?” Crowley insisted. “There’s still some light left.”  
  
Adam followed from further behind, burdened down by the apples he carried in the basin of his pulled-taut shirt. He said, “Not that much, and besides, we have to divide up the spoils before we head home.” The children gathered around him and claimed their prizes with greedy delight. The last remaining apple Adam offered to Crowley.  
  
“The game’s over now. You two can go home. Back to how you should be.”  
  
Crowley took the fruit. Adam, satisfied that the last ritual of the game was complete, left with the rest of the Them to go home. The last of the golden light left with them, so that when Crowley finally took a bite of the apple, and subsequently froze, the darkness kept Aziraphale from immediately noticing.   
  
"Kind of Adam to offer me the apple," he managed to say.  
  
"He's a nice boy," Aziraphale agreed. "Is it very good?"  
  
"Sinfully." Throat tight, Crowley held up the apple to Aziraphale and asked, “May I tempt you?”  
  
Aziraphale seemed hesitant by Crowley’s change of tone. “Are you all right, dear?”  
  
“Please. Just—” he squeezed Aziraphale’s hand—both as an encouragement and to steady himself. “Just trust me. You’ve got to try it.”   
  
Hesitantly, Aziraphale took the apple from him and bit into it's sweet flesh. There was a pause, and then his eyes shot open in surprise. He looked from the apple to Crowley and quietly said, "Oh, my."  
  
Crowley swallowed his anxiety. "You with me? All of you?"  
  
"I believe I am, yes." A gentle squeeze was given to their interlaced hands. That was a good sign, right? "And, well. I believe, i-if you would agree, that I might like to continue this game for a while longer. A good while longer.”   
  
Crowley’s elated smile split his face. “Would you now?”  
  
Aziraphale’s smile was more subdued, but just as hopeful. “Of course. Would you?"  
  
“Nothing could make me happier, angel.” And because he could, and because Aziraphale was leaning in to do the same, he pressed forward to bask another moment of shared bliss.  
  
Mouth full of the sweetness of apples and Aziraphale’s kiss, Crowley asked, “Shall we go home, then?”  
  
“Please. Oh, but first, I do believe there’s one last thing for me to do.”

* * *

Anathema’s kitchen table and subsequent countertops could not be identified as such, for as covered they were in books and paper. It was an irreparable disarray, but it didn’t stop her from noticing that in the center of her work—wedged between a stack of books and Newt’s crossed arms that he was using as a pillow—lay a new mess of twigs and leaves, a parchment note, and her cup of tea, freshly steaming.   
  
She finished wrapping the blanket around Newt’s shoulders as she’d originally intended before she reached to inspect these new items.  
  
The leaves and twigs she could see were more of a wreath. A crown, she realized, of broken bramble. The note simply said, in elegant golden script: _ Thank you.  
  
_ She reached for the tea and took a tentative sip. The sweet flavor filled her mouth, and, at just the same time, the realization that the two immortals had figured it out all on their own. No more reason to worry.   
  
Reassured, she took her seat beside Newt and ruffled his hair. Another sip of the tea was taken, and she smiled.  
  
“Hm. Apple blossom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the most self-indulgent fluff I have written ever and I have no regrets :D Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and would love to hear what you think! And if you want to find me elsewhere, I'm over on [tumblr](https://sightkeeper.tumblr.com/) and [twitter!](https://twitter.com/SightKeeper)


	3. Bonus Art!




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